Colorful Illusions

when hopes die...

Colorful Illusions

The autumn wind gently moves, stirring
the Chrysanthemum and the Marigold,
sets them swaying softly in the light Sun.
The woods lay quiet, and the hills brood.

Nature composes itself to the winter calm.
Suddenly, the stench of burning plastic
ruining the purity of autumn’s breath,
assails my senses to my utter dismay.

The young boys and girls playing
on the green of spring and summer,
their strength, stamina, bonhomie, and
buoyancy, our country’s hope, promise.

But, when I see our fresh air, flora and fauna
plundered and poisoned by powerful pollutants,
when I hear of the youth of my land tempted
to drugs for instant indulgence and irreparable loss,

all I am left with alas, are mere colorful illusions.


First place winner.





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